Act 4. Scene 1

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS FRIAR LAURENCE On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.

PARIS My father Capulet will have it so;And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.

FRIAR LAURENCE You say you do not know the lady's mind:Uneven is the course, I like it not.

PARIS Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,And therefore have I little talk'd of love;For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.Now, sir, her father counts it dangerousThat she doth give her sorrow so much sway,And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,To stop the inundation of her tears;Which, too much minded by herself alone,May be put from her by society:Now do you know the reason of this haste.

FRIAR LAURENCE [Aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter JULIET

PARIS Happily met, my lady and my wife!

JULIET That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

PARIS That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.

JULIET What must be shall be.

FRIAR LAURENCE That's a certain text.

PARIS Come you to make confession to this father?

JULIET To answer that, I should confess to you.

PARIS Do not deny to him that you love me.

JULIET I will confess to you that I love him.

PARIS So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.

JULIET If I do so, it will be of more price,Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

PARIS Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.

JULIET The tears have got small victory by that;For it was bad enough before their spite.

PARIS Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.

JULIET That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

PARIS Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

JULIET It may be so, for it is not mine own.Are you at leisure, holy father, now;Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

FRIAR LAURENCE Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;It strains me past the compass of my wits:I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,On Thursday next be married to this county.

JULIET Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,Do thou but call my resolution wise,And with this knife I'll help it presently.God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,Shall be the label to another deed,Or my true heart with treacherous revoltTurn to another, this shall slay them both:Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,Give me some present counsel, or, behold,'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knifeShall play the umpire, arbitrating thatWhich the commission of thy years and artCould to no issue of true honour bring.Be not so long to speak; I long to die,If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

FRIAR LAURENCE Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope,Which craves as desperate an execution.As that is desperate which we would prevent.If, rather than to marry County Paris,Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,Then is it likely thou wilt undertakeA thing like death to chide away this shame,That copest with death himself to scape from it:And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.

JULIET O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,From off the battlements of yonder tower;Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurkWhere serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;Or bid me go into a new-made graveAnd hide me with a dead man in his shroud;Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;And I will do it without fear or doubt,To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.

FRIAR LAURENCE Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consentTo marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow:To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:Take thou this vial, being then in bed,And this distilled liquor drink thou off;When presently through all thy veins shall runA cold and drowsy humour, for no pulseShall keep his native progress, but surcease:No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fadeTo paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall,Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;Each part, deprived of supple government,Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death:And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk deathThou shalt continue two and forty hours,And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comesTo rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:Then, as the manner of our country is,In thy best robes uncover'd on the bierThou shalt be borne to that same ancient vaultWhere all the kindred of the Capulets lie.In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,And hither shall he come: and he and IWill watch thy waking, and that very nightShall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.And this shall free thee from this present shame;If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,Abate thy valour in the acting it.

JULIET Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!

FRIAR LAURENCE Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperousIn this resolve: I'll send a friar with speedTo Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.